

July 31, 2025

Ryan Day steps to the podium wearing a gray quarter-zip, the same calm expression he’s worn across eight July's.
Outside the Woody Hayes Athletic Center, fans are printing T-shirts and arguing about quarterbacks. Inside, Day speaks for nearly 45 minutes, answering every question with the tone of someone fully aware of how difficult it is to do what Ohio State expects of him: win, then win again.
“Everybody loves talking about climbing the mountain,” Day says. “Nobody wants to talk about how hard it is to stay there.”
The Buckeyes open fall camp today as the defending national champions, a fact Day acknowledges only when pressed. Ohio State went 14–2 last year, conquering Tennessee, Oregon, Texas and Notre Dame in succession to win the program’s first College Football Playoff title in a decade. Within weeks, that mountaintop began to crumble under his feet.
Fourteen Buckeyes were drafted. Seventeen total starters moved on. Both coordinators left. A three-way quarterback battle is underway. And Day, who was on the hot seat for losing to Michigan within recent memory, now carries an entirely different burden: maintaining greatness in the most volatile era college football has ever seen.
“It’s never been harder to be consistent,” Day says. “That’s the truth. But that’s always been the standard here. We don’t get to pick the era.”
Day’s tenure is already one of the most interesting in Ohio State history. Now entering his seventh full season, he holds a 70–10 record, has never lost more than two games in a season, and has reached the College Football Playoff four times. He has produced two Heisman finalists, three Big Ten titles, and finally, the national championship that eluded him in both 2020 and 2022.
And yet, the margins at Ohio State are razor-thin. For years, his legacy revolved around losses to Michigan and the perception that the program was slipping, even as it remained an annual playoff contender. Last season’s title quieted those narratives. Day knows that at Ohio State, there is no grace period and no reset button. Only the expectation that every season ends in confetti, and that any year it doesn’t is considered failure.
The Cost of a Championship Roster
Day knew the roster was loaded. He also knew he would lose nearly all of it.
Emeka Egbuka, Donovan Jackson, Josh Simmons and Tyleik Williams all went in the first round. Four more Buckeyes went in the next two rounds. By the end of draft weekend, the graphic making its way around social media read simply: 14 Buckeyes drafted — the most in college football.
“When you have that many guys leave,” Day says, “your depth chart looks very different very quickly.”
It doesn’t end with the draft. Center Seth McLaughlin, tight end Gee Scott, and right tackle Josh Fryar graduated — all good enough to earn NFL practice squad looks. The defensive line was gutted. The run game lost both TreVeyon Henderson and Quinshon Judkins.
This is the paradox of modern college football: the better you are, the more likely it becomes that you won’t look anything like yourself a year later. And yet, somehow, Ohio State still returns two players who might be the best in America at their positions.
One is Jeremiah Smith — the former five-star receiver who caught the national championship game winner as a true freshman and is now the consensus No. 1 offensive player in the country.
The other is safety Caleb Downs, the transfer-turned-captain who became the heart of the Buckeye defense last season and is now projected as a top-five NFL Draft pick.

Day calls them “as good a pair of foundational pieces as any team in the country.” But even he admits: “It’s not as simple as just plugging holes around them.”
New Voices, Same Pressure
Last winter, Day lost both coordinators.
Chip Kelly left for the Las Vegas Raiders and Jim Knowles bolted to become Penn State’s defensive coordinator, the first time in decades an Ohio State coordinator left for a conference rival. It added a personal sting.
“It’s a reminder,” Day says. “Everyone is battling for the same goals. Nobody is sitting still.”
Brian Hartline, long viewed as the program’s ace recruiter, takes over play-calling duties on offense. The playbook is still Day’s, but Hartline will be the voice in the quarterback’s ear on third-and-seven.
“Brian’s ready,” Day says. “This is the next step.”
On defense? The hire was louder, literally and figuratively.
Matt Patricia.
The former NFL head coach who became a meme in Detroit, then a punching bag in New England, suddenly reemerged in Columbus.
“He wanted it,” Day says. “He came into the interview hungry.”
Patricia is abandoning Jim Knowles’ trademark three safety structure — at least in theory. Multiple players say the new defense is more traditional in its spacing, with Patricia emphasizing base fronts and more NFL-style matchup coverages.
Caleb Downs summed it up: “Coach Patricia’s whole thing is simplicity with purpose. Less disguising for the sake of disguising. More lining up and making you beat us.”
Whether that works in a conference now featuring Oregon, USC, and preseason #2 Penn State is an open question.
But Day keeps circling back to one truth: Ohio State doesn’t get years of grace for new coaches. It gets about eight weeks.
A Quarterback Battle in Three Acts
Behind the closed doors of the WHAC, the most watched competition in college football is underway. There are three quarterbacks. Day refuses to rank them. Julian Sayin arrived a year ago as the No. 1 QB recruit in the country. He was supposed to be the next one. Six-foot, lightning fast release, elite processing.
“He sees space differently,” Day says. “The ball is out before the receivers get there.”
But even as fans have anointed Sayin the next great Buckeye quarterback, Lincoln Kienholz didn’t get the memo. The third-year quarterback from South Dakota arrived as a development project and turned himself into a 6-3, 220-pound problem.
“He’s the best athlete in the room,” one staffer says privately. “If he hits the layups, he’s dangerous.”
Then there is Tavien St. Clair, the five-star freshman who looks more Big Ten tight end than Big Ten freshman quarterback. At 6-4, 230 pounds, he has the strongest arm on the team, and the least practical chance to start, for now.
“He’s got Josh Allen’s frame and a year’s worth of reading defenses to learn,” Day says, smiling.
Day refuses to name a leader.
“We’re not forcing it,” he says. “We’ll know when we know.”
The Era of Turbulence
This is the part of Day’s press conference that feels more like a lecture. Someone asks him, broadly, about sustaining success.
“There’s no manual for this era,” Day answers. “You’re balancing NIL, the transfer portal, realignment, 12-team playoffs. You’re trying to teach 100 players how to be great while half the sport is trying to recruit them off your roster.”
He is not complaining. He is not ranting. He’s explaining the reality.
“You win a national title, and you immediately start fielding calls asking if your players want more money elsewhere. That’s where we are.”
Ohio State still has as much structural power as anyone. Its NIL collective is organized. Its roster retention is better than most. But Day knows that sustained dominance is now a weekly recruiting battle.
“You used to worry about signing classes,” he says. “Now you’re worried about individual locker rooms.”
He pauses.
“The hardest thing isn’t winning anymore,” he says. “It’s keeping the same group together long enough to do it again.”
What Comes Next
Ohio State will scrimmage twice before students return for the fall semester. Day expects a starting quarterback “well before” the season opener. The defense must rebuild an identity without J.T. Tuimoloau, Jack Sawyer, Denzel Burke and Tyleik Williams. The offensive line must find three new starters. Patricia must prove he can translate NFL ideas to the tempo chaos of college football. And yet, most sportsbooks list Ohio State as a preseason top five favorite.
“This is still Ohio State,” Day says. “We don’t get to lower the bar.”
He walks off the stage after 45 minutes. No flashy proclamation. No declaration of dominance. Just a coach who knows the climb isn’t the story anymore. The story is staying up there — in a sport where the mountain moves beneath your feet.





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